by Rajiv Bakshi
For the next 10 days I was the most “ENCOUNTERED” person. All the participants said that the first thing they will tell to their families back home will be the experience of “ENCOUNTER WITH WASPS” by one of the participants. The institute people said that this is the first and perhaps the last time that this “ENCOUNTER” of strange type has taken place.
I for once have decided not to eat “Romali Roti” again and also not to “substitute” anyone for training.
PS : Never ever have an Encounter with unknown !!!!
I Wish I were your Shaveta
The idea to write this story came about twenty years back. I am real jealous of her. She came to my life not as a daughter, or friend or neighbors daughter but as my Sister-in-Law’s daughter.
Ever since she was born in a small hill station Dalhousie she was the most pampered child of her parents. Which daughter or son is not the pampered child of his or her parent. Only the poor HUSBAND is not the pampered one.
She had studied in Sacred Heart Convent School in Dalhousie and had a secret desire to settle abroad after marriage.
The first ladder to achieve her dream came when she joined a prestigious college in Jalandhar where I was also working in a nationalized bank. She wanted to stay in the hostel in spite of the fact that she was given an open invitation by my wife to stay with her. She must be fifteen or sixteen when she landed in Jallandhar. She was one of the most home sick children I had ever seen. Whenever she came to stay with us in Model Town, she was a VIP. Since she was staying away from her parents and brothers she was looked after very well by my wife and she was loved by all. Sundays and Holidays were real treat for Shaveta and my son, Tarun, who is five years younger to her.
Shaveta was given Bread Pakoras, Burgers, Rasgoolas and so many other sweets whenever she visited us. On the other hand I was just given bread omelet and that too without cheese, without butter, and top of it minus the tomato ketchup. When her mood was off or homesick, she was pampered to the full and was given gifts, her favorite food cooked.
I am real fond of food, things which I like I can eat anytime be it early morning or midnight. So I thought of using the same technique with my better half, so that I can enjoy some of my favorite food items. I did a little drama of being low one day and prompt came the reply – “Get yourself in high sprits soon as you have to take Shaveta for shopping”.
This made me JEALOUS of her. I had to bribe both Tarun and Shaveta to give me some Bread Pakoras or cheese rolls. The children were so happy to receive ten rupees as their extra pocket money so that they can go to the model town market and enjoy at their favorite shop.
It was the end of her stay in Jalandhar after four years. She left her hostel, college friends and all of us with a heavy heart. A few months after coming from Dalhousie and regularly visiting our place had made her feel very comfortable with us. Shaveta completed her MBA from Simla and eventually married an Investment Banker from Mumbai. Now fifteen years after her marriage she is a happy mom of a beautiful princess and a handsome prince.
A few months back when I met Shaveta and her children at Ludhiana she told her children about the golden time she spent with me at Jalandhar so many years back.
She clearly remembered the old days when she used to burst the crackers and have so many sweets on the Diwali festival.
She is one of my favorite nieces which led to the following comment to my better half from me I wish I were your Shaveta so that I was pampered, get lots of gifts, things to eat and no work to do after my retirement.
The Indian Love Story
This story dates back to the years 1960’s when very few Indians used to go to America for higher studies and work. Since Yoginder, also known as Yogi had done his engineering from BITS Pillani and his father was a District and Session Judge in Jallandhar, he was quite comfortably placed. Yogi was youngest of the three siblings. His mother had passed away while he was fourteen. His father Sher Singh had not remarried for the sake of his children.
With a heavy heart Yogi left for greener pastures in USA. He did his Masters in Engineering from New York and was employed as an Engineer in IBM. Those were the years when children were afraid of their parents. When one day Yogi wrote to his father in Jalandhar that he was in love with an American girl named Doris and wanted to marry her, the father lost no temper in scolding his sibling. Yogi was a young handsome boy with blue eyes and belonged to a high family of Punjab. There was no dearth of Indian girls for him. It was the time of no internet, no twitter and no Face Book. A phone call to America took long time to mature.The only source of communication was through letters which took almost fifteen days to reach and not like the present age where with a click a mouse the mail reaches the other part of the globe. Yogi convinced his father in marrying to Doris. Yogi’s father could not afford to visit his son in America for his marriage. Yogi and Doris had quietly wedded in a Church. With the love Doris had for Yogi, she decided to have her name changed as Deepa for her extended Indian family. With the change in name, Doris alias Deepa, her heart also changed. She decided to familiarize herself with the Indian C’s - customs, curry and culture. She wrote long letters to her relatives in India and made her place in the hearts of her Indian relatives. Doris was blessed with a son and three daughters who were all too attached to their papa Yogi and Mom Doris.
The life passed smoothly with change of job in two or three companies and change of residence from New York to Phoenix and then Florida. Yogi, Doris were in constant touch with their Indian relatives. Yogi and Doris visited Jallandhar almost five years after their marriage. They were completely bowled over by the Indian hospitality. They traveled to places like Dalhousie, Agra, New Delhi, Jallandhar and Mumbai visiting some friends and relatives. Doris adapted to the Indian culture and learnt some Indian words like: Chai, Namasate, Sabzi. Doris stayed with her father-in- law and extended family in laws. She stayed in India for six months tasting the delicacies of Indian curry, Indian sweets, Indian traffic (it was not that crowded in those times) and Indian religion. She even attended a few Indian marriages and went to the religious temples and Gurudwaras.
Everything seemed to be going well till it was not. It was almost twenty years after their marriage that one day when Yogi went to the Doctor for his check up, he was detected with Cancer of stomach. The children Dave, Indy, Neena and Sundy were too small to understand all this. The Doctor had given some hope with dose of chemotherapy. Chemotherapy was administered to Yogi for a few months but he could not survive. Yogi’s father was devastated. He could not think that his son was no more. But Doris sent air ticket to her father- in-law and Sher Singh stayed at Doris place for around three months. The Indian father-in-law American daughter-in-law duo visited various cities in USA and during his stay and their connection grew deeper. She proudly introduced him as Yogi’s father.
Sher Singh returned back to Jalandhar and he passed away at the age of seventy two, while his son Yogi was snatched at a young age of forty six.
Doris was left with a small family pension. But she was a lady with strong courage, positive attitude. She looked after her children very well and got them good education. She had a large family of her five sisters to support her. Some of them even asked her to remarry. But Doris, still strongly bonded with her Indian husband, said a complete no. She was committed to her children. Deepa as she was known to her Indian relatives continued to communicate with her Indian relatives. She wrote long letters to her husband’s brother family and other family members. After email and Face Book became popular, she was the first one to give beautiful comments. The picture uploaded may be good, bad, ordinary but she gave such witty comments that came straight from her heart. The children of the next generation were too much attached to her. Deepa knew about the likes and dislikes of all her nephews and nieces though she had never met any one in person. Every one got a special Birthday Blessing from her.
On her seventy fifth Birthday she had celebrated a grand reunion. Around seventy relatives of her had
come to attend this function. She had made it a point to see that all: her son, daughter, son-in-law, daughter-in-law and even great grand son and great grand daughter were comfortable. Her equation was different with different people. But one thing was common- THE BOND OF FAMILY.
As Doris got older, she moved her residence from damp Eugene to sunny Florida. At Eugene her daughter Indy stayed. But due to health reason she chose Florida. Almost one year after she celebrated her seventy fifth Birthday, the Face Book was flooded with pictures of herself with different relatives.
Doris daughter had mailed her Indian cousins and American cousins to send her old pictures. She had told her cousins that she had very sad news to share. The Doctor had diagnosed that she was suffering from cancer and she had decided not to take any medicine. Since she was in hospital all her children Dave, Indy, Neena & Sundy had come to see her. Doris only wanted loving glances from her family members. Two of her sisters were also with her. The Indian relatives were devastated with this mail. They rushed old pictures to Indy and Neena. Every one wanted to be with Doris.
Next day the following poem appeared on FaceBook
“Slow down Mummy there is no need to rush,
Slow down Mummy, what is all this fuss?
Slow down Mummy make yourself a cup of tea.
Slow down Mummy, come and spend some time with me.
Slow down Mummy, let’s put our boots on and go out for a walk.
Let’s kick at piles of leaves and smile and laugh and talk.
Slow down Mummy, you look so ever tired
Come sit and snuggle under the duvet and rest with me a while.
Slow down Mummy, these dirty dishes can wait.
Slow down Mummy, let’s have some fun, let’s bake a Cake!
Slow down Mummy I know you work a lot but sometimes Mummy, it’s nice when you just stop.
Sit with us a minute and listen to our day.
Spend a cherished moment.
Because our childhood is not here to stay”
After reading this highly emotional poem we know what was in store for us -
The Indian Love Story had come to an end.
PS: The emotions all over the world are the same.
The Samjhauta Express
Razia was not been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her father - Abbaji as she used to call her, had taken all the pains to get her educated in Delhi. She was born and brought up in Delhi with circle of good friends and like any other college person, she had enjoyed her life to the fullest. After her post graduation in English, she got married to a Muslim boy, a legal expert in a bank.
Razia had only one wish in her life and the thought of not getting it fulfiled would trouble her. There was a strong desire for Razia, who had never met her brother Imran. Imran had stayed with his paternal grandparents in Pakistan at the time of partition. Razia’s father had shifted to India after going through lot of trials and tribulations associated with partition. He had seen it all. He had been a spectator of seeing the Hindus being killed by Muslims and Muslims being killed by the Hindus. Razia was 2 years old when she came to India, a year elder to Imran.
Abbaji had sworn that he will never again visit the place of his birth Multan in Pakistan. There was lurking fear in his mind that something bad will happen if he decided to visit the place again. So for the sake and well being of his family – both older and younger generation he had made a promise to himself to keep it as long as he would live.
Her father, being a strict person, she could never defy him. Many times she would bring the topic to meet his brother but it was shot down right away. Only after he passed away at the ripe age of 80 the thought of meeting her brother Imran came to her mind.
Razia had found a suitable match for her daughter, Shaheen. She now wanted to personally visit Pakistan to invite her brother Imran and his family to attend marriage at Delhi. Razia had coaxed her husband to get her visa for ten days to Pakistan. Getting visa for Pakistan was a big issue for her. Only when the marriage card was shown to the visa granting authorities of Pakistan Embassy she got the visa. But there was a hitch. As Razia’s husband could not get no objection certificate from his bank in time, he could not get the visa. Razia had decided to embark the journey all by herself in the Train to Pakistan.
Razia was very excited to meet her brother for the first time. Razia’s college friends who always knew about this pain were equally delighted and happy for Razia. They helped her in buying presents for Razia’s brother’s family who stayed in one of the posh areas of Lahore. Razia’s friends had given her a long list for shopping in Anarkali Bazar of Lahore.
The D Day arrived. Razia was seen off at New Delhi Railway Station by her husband, daughter Shaheen and friends. Razia had already phoned her brother Imran to receive her at Lahore railway station.. It was first time Razia was traveling abroad and that too all alone. The excitement of meeting Imran and his wife, nephew and nieces was visible on her face. She was given lot of instructions by her husband and relatives that how she should stay in Pakistan.
Imran had promised his sister Razia that she will feel at home at her brother’s residence. Though they were going to meet for the first time but the feelings of both Razia and Imran were such that they had met hundred of times. Razia had taken lot of presents from India for her relatives whom she was going to meet for the first time.
At Attari check point railway station the custom authorities had taken long time to check the luggage of all the passengers. The train at Attari is to be changed and all the passengers were to embark on the new train “The Samjhauta Express” which was to take them to Lahore. The very feeling that you will be in another country just after the train journey of one hour can only be felt. Razia was getting such feelings for her brother Imran.
Imran on the other hand experienced more subtle feelings. He was there to receive Razia –his sister whom he had never seen. He had only heard her sweet voice on telephone. The day had come when she will be there on platform no 1 of Lahore station at 8.10am.
Imran has asked his driver to come at 6 am on that day. He had to visit a mosque on that day before going to railway station. All his appointments for the next ten days were cancelled. He was only there to look after his sister Razia. Imran, his wife, his children all dressed in new clothes were there with bouquets, sweets and dry fruits to welcome their guest from India.
Time and again he was looking at his watch and asking the porters about coach no 1B. Just as the train arrived, Imran saw his sister Razia waving to him in her bright red suit. He hurriedly ran to coach 1B to embrace his sister Razia. The brother sister duo of Razia-Imran embraced each other and cried. They met for the first time in their life and that too on a foreign soil. Both could not control their emotions along with their other family members. At this hour Imran suffered a severe heart attack and was no more thereafter.. Razia did not even know how to react. The only desire she had in her entire life was to meet Bhai jaan, and when it happened, life had something else planned.
It was as if Allah had arranged their meeting for the last journey of Imran.
Me and my Mobile
It was the best of times to buy Mobile.. The Prime Minister had it. ‘Prerna” of “Kasauti Zindagi Ki” flouts 3310 Noika Model. The bus driver had it. The conductor who was getting a salary of Rs. 10000 could not live without it. Heights of heights husband of our maid Roshni also had it. Four years back when it was not common to have it and was considered a status symbol. I had decided that it was a sheer waste of time and waste of money.
But now after 4 years the times have changed. It is the worst of time to buy Mobile. The “AirTel” connection has crossed 1 million marks in Punjab. With so many schemes - Freedom 150, Freedom at Midnight, Prepaid, Post Paid, the glossary is ambiguous. Get mobile for Rs. 3500/- and get recharged coupons for Rs. 3240/- proclaims one of the ad’s. Hutch, Orange, Spice, AirTel, BSNL, MTNL, WLL, M2M, M2 Landline, Landline 2M, there is so much confusion about the various agencies who have spre
ad their network in the whole of country that now it is impossible to say “NO”.
I had said that I don’t want Mobile. But now when I travel in bus from Ludhiana to Rara Sahib and when I miss the bus by a whisker, the next day conductor of Chahil bus says “Manager Sahib you should have called me on mobile. I would have stopped the bus”. I had to cut sorry figure that I did not have Mobile. Another time when my better half was furious on the maid for not coming to our house for a few days she casually said “Mam didn’t you have our mobile number. I get lot of incoming calls daily”. I again had to cut a sorry figure.
A few days back I was coming in a Rickhsaw with a friend of mine. The Mobile bell was ringing playing DD LJ tune. My friend put his hand in the coat. The rickshaw waala snapped back. “Sir it is not your mobile which is ringing but I am being called by my wife from Bihar”. Again a sorry figure!!!
Every second good customer to our branch has a mobile. They always ask for my phone number or mobile number. If I give them my landline phone number they give me a dirty look. I knew what they mean. A Bank Manager not having mobile. They cannot believe it.
When Govinda can ask Karishma Kapoor “What is your MOBILE NUMBER”, Mihir Calling Tulsi every now and then, Om calling Parvati and Shruti on Mobile Why could not I ?
Never mind the average bill one has to shell on mobile but I think now it has become a STATUS (Sic) symbol. The other month I was on training to Noida. There I spotted a girl having two Mobiles in her hand. I casually mentioned it to my wife. She promptly said that one Mobile was for her parents and the second one was for her B.F.
At least I have also now decided to purchase one Mobile. The “limit” comes handy for us bankers. Whenever we need something we have our “limit” to bank upon. Now we have four Mobiles in our family. One Mobile is with my son who is in Mangalore. One Mobile is with my wife. One Mobile is with me. And the fourth Mobile is for “EMERGENCY” if there is a breakdown. You can well imagine the monthly bill on Mobile. I think it is for this purpose that the bank has granted us “LIMIT”.